Assorted Drabbles
by MartaL0712
Summary: Various drabbles written on various topics, one per chapter; summary at the beginning of each chapter.
1. Default Chapter

An Apology and an Explanation

First, an apology. When I first started writing drabbles over at the Henneth Annûn Story Archive, I was posting them in a forum there (and in my own LJ) -- as individual posts. While I also collected them into a multi-chapter story, this was secondary and for other peoples' convenience. I knew some people posted their drabbles at other archives as chapters of a drabble story. I'm not sure why I didn't do it that way myself; I think because I view drabbles as an art form of their own.

I'm not trying to make excuses; I can understand why it would be annoying, especially when I was trying to get them up on the site. I apologize. Please rest assured that I didn't mean to inconvenience or annoy anyone.

Also, there seems to be a little bit of confusion in some of the reviews over just what a drabble is. It can be on any topic, in any form, but it has to be exactly 100 words. It's a great way to explore story ideas I might never write anything about, otherwise. And I think its' worthwhile on its own right; the economy of words forces you to narrow your focus to a specific scene and write in such a way that a reader can fill in the blanks.

Again, I apologize for any inconvenience. Thanks for reading! 


	2. Can't Take His Medicine

On the march across Rohan Merry is healed orc-style. 

Rough hands grabbed Merry by the shoulders, forcing him upright. His world whirled around him: grass and sky, the occasional tree, and the laughing horde of Orcs all around.

The bandage was ripped off; those hands rubbed a rancid salve into his forehead. "Can't take his medicine!" the harsh voices jeered.

Uglúk forced the draught down Merry. The hobbit gagged and spewed, but some crept down his throat. His leg bonds were cut, and Merry was pulled to his feet. Pale, yes, grim and defiant -- but very much alive.

He turned to face his cousin and smiled wanly. "Hullo, Pip." 


	3. Chasing and Burg'ling

Returning from the Shire, Frodo must explain himself and his adventures to the Gaffer. A drabble 

"...That's what started all the mischief," the Gaffer rambled on, hands on his hips, "... chasing Black Men up mountains, though what for he don't make clear..."

Frodo grimaced and took a long pull on his tankard. Even after all his adventures, that tongue still withered his ears.

"...Just like your uncle, burg'ling dragons..."

Burgling... burgling dragons?

Frodo wiped away snorted ale. But those words held truth. Bilbo had burgled dragons. A regular there-and-back-again adventure. And now... now Bilbo was safe. Free.

"... and ruined my taters!"

Frodo smiled at his neighbour, chuckling. "I shall do my best to make amends." 


	4. Failed Foresight

In the days after the Ring War Faramir and Elrond discuss Pippin. A drabble.

I had often been called farsighted, and yet -- and yet I would have sent the halfling home. Seeing him now, in the Tower garb, I wondered if the wisdom of Elrond had failed.

"You doubted him as well?" I turned and saw the Steward standing at my side, his eyes troubled.

"I did," I said after a moment. "I wished that he had returned to the Shire."

At that Faramir chuckled. "So did I. I would have spared him this." The weariness left his face. He placed his hand on my forearm. "But that was not for us to decide." 


	5. Fealty and Services

A drabble: Faramir swears fealty to Denethor.

"Here do I swear fealty and service ..."

The words flow from his lips with a certainty I have scarce heard from him. Surely he is his brother's brother. But more than that he is his father's son.

Faramir. Sufficient jewel I named you, but you have proved me wrong. Much more than sufficient.

Old hand covers new as I lay my palm on the hilt of your sword. Our eyes catch, and we both see each other as never before. Kindred flesh, men of Gondor. The bond we share is now cemented by oath.

My son.

"And this do I hear..." 


	6. Fear! Fire! Foes!

A drabble - Fatty escapes the Black Riders' attack on Crickhollow and alerts the other hobbits to their presence.

Awake! Fear! Fire! Foes!

The call resounded across the Buckland, waking those who would hear. Danger -- it did not matter what sort -- had come.

Fatty collapsed against the door-bolster, heaving for breath. The mile-long sprint had been too much for him, the hobbit family thought. If they only knew.

If they knew what Fatty had seen, they would have froze where they stood. No bell would have rung.

Black horses. That cursed wind that stole his breath. Pillow-feathers flying, doors broken in, and the blood-curdling scream.

They little guessed the danger. Yet that brave, stuttering hobbit saved the Shire. Until tomorrow. 


	7. Foul Brew

On the march across Rohan, the Uruk-hai force feed Pippin a foul drink. A drabble.

Pippin pulled himself to his hands and knees, gagging. The foul brown draught ran down his chin and onto the grass.

He tried to forget the taste, remembering pleasanter drinks: Ale at the Golden Perch and around Farmer Maggot's table. Gildor's amber drink. The miruvor in Moria.

He spat out the rust from the flask and some of the foul brew but could not keep from swallowing the rest. It seeped down his throat, invading his gut. His blood boiled. A thousand flames burned his flesh. His spirit fumed.

The Took staggered to his feet. Yes, he could go on. 


	8. High King and Halfling

Argeleb grants the Fallohide brothers permission to settle the Shire. A drabble.

Argeleb settled into his throne and glared at his advisor. Why today, of all days...

"We found a hilly region beyond the Baranduin, your majesty, and --"

Argeleb raised one hand for silence, massaging his temple with the other. He had wanted to dismiss the court, but Marcho was persistent. The king was none too pleased with the woolly-toed nuisance standing before him. Luckily, he knew the quickest way to gain some peace.

He sighed heavily. "Just speed my messengers, acknowledge my lordship, and this land is yours -- what did you call it again?"

Marcho smiled warmly at that. "The Shire." 


	9. His Lady's Horse

Halbarad brings a gift from Rivendell. A drabble.

The dusk light had nearly faded to evening's grey, but no matter. A ranger's ears can hear a man approach. Eight hoofsteps.

"Halbarad."

He dismounted, leading the new horse toward me.

"All was well in Imladris?"

He smiled knowingly. "Aye, she lives."

I turned to face him. "I did not ask of Arwen --" But then I saw the horse. I knew that proud back, that hardy coat. A horse of the Valley.

Halbarad leaned close. "The lady is well, and wishes you the same."

'Twas good it was so dark. A ranger did not smile so foolishly at a horse. 


	10. Hope

Glorfindel searches for Aragorn and the hobbits. A drabble written for LotR Lover's birthday.

Asfaloth plodded along the road, his gait lacking its usual vigour. His bells clang together, devoid of their normal music.

Still we search, but what for? What hope is there to find them in the wilderness, with the Nine abroad?

Hope. His mind lingered on that word. What hope did he claim, that he might find Hope? Estel was lost, and all Middle-earth's hope. He sank into his steed's back, and Asfaloth guessed his master's despair.

But Asfaloth smelled a familiar scent on the wind. His step quickened, his bells sang. "Glorfindel!" the elf heard, and his heart rejoiced. Estel. 


	11. In Memoriam

Years after the Ring War, Beregond helps Bergil honour Boromir's legacy.

I stood along Anduin's now-fair banks, gazing toward Minas Anor. "Aye, it is fair, father, but I do not see..."

Beregond shook his head. "Not west." He placed his hand on my shoulder and faced me toward the North. "Look to the site of Gondor's victory."

Of course I had heard the stories. How the Prince of the City was pierced by many arrows. How he had fallen but not faltered.

And then I understood. Our horn had been cloven, our chest pierced, but still Gondor strove on. Like Boromir.

The faithful jewel had not failed; he had conquered. 


	12. Knight's Service

Merry and Pippin are hunting for a late-night snack one night in Edoras -- and see a kiss that Faramir and Eowyn would rather keep secret. A double drabble written for MadGamgee's birthday and based on Liz's story "Later.

Pippin watched Merry reach to the back of the shelf above his head. "Here we are," he said, retrieving a wheel of cheese - and several apples, fruit raining down and falling to the floor with a thump.

"Merry, be careful!" Pippin hissed in a low voice.

In the dim light Pippin saw his cousin shrug. The Took retrieved the bruised apples and placed them on their shelf, hurried back to the hall, and pulled the door shut.

"Don't you dare." The words might have been lost to other mortal ears, but hobbits are quick of hearing. Was that... Faramir? But what was he doing here? He inched down the side-passage where he had heard the voice.

Pippin glanced past the barely-opened door and saw Éowyn, her fingers interlocking with Faramir's, recovering from what Pippin guessed must have been a stolen kiss - a kiss both had waited long for, but which custom demanded be delayed yet further. A kiss the hobbits had interrupted.

He remembered berries, birds, and soaked tunics, shared glances and a promise of "Later". And other things: seeing-stones and fire, tales of valour and despair.

Let them have their peace. "Come on, Merry," he said, "I'm hungry." 


	13. Mercy

Legolas intercepts Bilbo and the dwarves as they try to cross Mirkwood on their quest toward Erebor. A drabble.

"Daro!" Legolas cried into the night air. The shuffling sound of heavy boots on fallen leaves stopped.

"Nock your arrows," he whispered to the other elves, reaching into his own quiver and fitting a well-crafted feather to his bowstring. "What business have you in Greenwood?" he demanded, stepping into the clearing.

Never had he imagined he'd face twelve half-starved dwarves, huddling together. Yet there they were. The one in the tattered blue hood looked at him, the muddling effect of spiders' venom clear in his eyes.

"Easy," Legolas said to the guard beside him. "Tie their hands tightly - but not cruelly." 


	14. Night and Day

When they first met on the Plains of Rohan Éomer said less-than-pleasing words about the "Lady of the Golden Wood" and Gimli said this was only excusable because the Eorling had never met Galadriel. Now, after meeting both Arwen and Galadriel at Aragorn's and Arwen's wedding, Gimli and Éomer discuss the two ladies. A double drabble.

"Master Gimli!"

I turned and saw the newly crowned king crossing the hall.

"Éomer King," I said, bowing so low my beard brushed the floor. "At your service."

"Aye, as you always have been." But the king's expression was deadly serious. I straightened myself and looked at him questioningly.

"I must beg your service once more. Have you your axe?"

"Nay. Should I send for it?"

Éomer sighed, but I caught the glint in his eye. "Perhaps. Harsh words still separate us." He spoke of the lady Galadriel: first of my lady's perilous beauty, then the wisdom of her eyes and her resplendent hair, more precious to me than mithril.

"And if I had but met her in different company, I would feel as you do, I am sure."

His eyes trailed to the queen Arwen, and my blood boiled. Aye, the queen was lovely, but she was no match for my lady.

"Should I send for my sword?"

Would these fair ladies bring us to blows, then? I mastered the legendary temper of my kind, and saw beyond his words: the love we bestowed was not so different.

"Nay. You chose the Evening; my love belongs to the Morning." 


	15. Not Alone

Sam, eavesdropping on the Council of Elrond, overhears Frodo volunteer to take the Ring to Mordor. 

The noon bell sang through the air, breaking the waterfalls' music, and still they talked on. Now, I'm no fool, and I like tales more than most, but there's a time for stories and there's a time for action.

And we all knew this was a time for action.

Who would go? Aye, that's why they'd been talking all morning. And still they asked. Elves, dwarves, that one man -- and Bilbo, volunteering to go all on his own? That's foolishness; he's too old.

"I shall take the ring."

On your feet, Sam-lad! "Not alone," I declare. "Not without me." 


	16. Raven and Gold

A drabble -- the first meeting of Éowyn and Arwen Evenstar 

"May I introduce Éowyn, Lady of Rohan?"

Faramir's eyes twinkle with pride as we stand before the Queen. So this is the one who stole the new king's heart so many years ago? 'Tis hardly surprising. She is surpassing fair, Elven grace and Númenórean passion embodied.

Yet what does she see in me? Shield-maiden spurned? Nazgûl-slayer? Oath-breaker? Last daughter of a ragged house, fit only for dogs and squalling children?

Faramir's hands shelter mine. What else might she see? Beloved of the Steward? Daughter of kings? Lady far from home facing a new world, for love?

"'Tis an honour, your majesty." 


	17. Small Hands

At the Council of Elrond, Boromir sees Frodo volunteer to take the Ring to Mordor. A drabble.

The little master stood before us all, his eyes stubborn. Aye, I did not doubt his courage, but how many steps lie down the long, foolish path this almighty council would send him on? Did he know? Surely his short legs could not carry him clear to Mordor?

Laughter swelled in my throat, and almost it escaped, but one look around silenced it. Pity I saw, and memory. And tears. Tears in every eye, that Isildur's thrice-cursed bane should come to this. Yet small hands may match a heart braver than a Captain-general's, it seems.

Nay, this was no jest. 


	18. So Other Men May Fight

Bergil tries to convince Beregond to let him stay in Minas Tirith. A drabble.

Bergil glared at me, a defiant look in his eyes. "I am not going."

"Please, son, listen to reason..."

"I will not be sent away. You have always called me your little man. And if I am not yet old enough to wield a sword, surely I can help some other way, so other men may fight?"

If we could muster half that defiance, perhaps Gondor would stand, if only on one leg.

"Besides, Gelmir is staying."

And he would not abandon his friends. I sighed.

"Very well; you may stay." 


	19. Steward and the King, The

"The Steward and the King"

Thorongil leaned back against the marble wall, his grim lips turning upward as the future steward played before him.

"Who are you fighting?" he asked, trying to hide his amusement.

The child looked over his shoulder, teetering to one side. Thorongil reached out his hand, steadying him.

"Orcs," Boromir answered matter-of-factly. "Father says we must always be ready." The wooden sword jabbed the air, and soon he was off again.

iThat babes should know that truth... /i He sighed. 'Twas necessary, he knew, and yet... The captain smiled wryly at the child's play. Come what may, here was valour worthy of Gondor. 


	20. Heirs of Isildur, The

An early-morning encounter between Elrond and one of Isildur's heirs. A drabble.

The Half-elf sat up and squinted in the early-morning light pouring through the windows, now deprived of their drapes.

"Aravir? Why are you...?"

The six-year-old scowled at him. "My name is bnot/b Aravir."

Elrond shook his head, trying to focus his mind. Of course not. Aravir had been speared by an orc-captain; that was nigh fifty years ago.

"Argonui?"

The child stomped over to the bed, placing his hands on his hips. "My. Name. Is. Arador." The future chieftain stormed out of the room.

iWhy must Isildur have so many heirs?/i Elrond hurried after the child to apologise. 


	21. Three for the Elvenlords

Just what was Celeborn thinking when Galadriel accepted the Elven-ring? A drabble.

"Tis a thing of beauty, is it not?" Galadriel ran her finger over the white gem.

"It is," I said slowly. "But I have seen other things that appeared beautiful -- at first."

She saw the Two Trees in all their glory, and the jewels in which her kinsman captured their light. Jewels which brought death to my kinsmen.

I had seen other trees, in Middle-earth: not as glorious, perhaps, as those of Aman, but beautiful to me.

Did she not understand? Would she accept Celebrimbor's gift? Very well. Nothing good would come of it, but I would stand beside her. 


	22. Unexpected Gift, An

Gandalf has been searching the Minas Tirith archive for information about Frodo's ring. Now he must return to the Shire - and Denethor would say farewell. A drabble.

Gandalf walked around the old horse, examining her. Running his hand down one leg, he sighed as he felt the bump on her knee. So you have been ridden hard.

Taking a carrot from his pocket, he held it out invitingly. Her lips caressed Gandalf's palm; soon the carrot was devoured.

She is a poor beast indeed. But still... He saw that some fire still burned in her eyes. Her spirit thrived, if her body faltered. And he was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Turning, he nodded at Denethor. "Thank you. 'Tis an unexpected gift, but welcome all the same." 


	23. Welcoming the Lady

Shortly after their wedding, Faramir takes Eowyn to Henneth Annun, and the two share a private moment. A double drabble written for Tanaqui's birthday.

Ducking through the waterfall, Éowyn let Faramir lead her the last few steps of the long path. Deft fingers loosened the knot in the blindfold. Secrecy was no longer strictly necessary, but she guessed Faramir had wanted to surprise her.

Slowly she spun round, taking in the cavern: once full, now populated with barrels of salted meat, wine, and other provisions, but not by men. They were alone.

As Éowyn turned to face the watery veil she sucked in her breath, the air whistling through her teeth. A song like that from a thousand harps rose from where the waterfall met the pool far below, and the setting sun glistened through the curtain, more brilliant than Meduseld's tapestries.

She felt Faramir's fingers entwine between her own. Reluctantly she turned from the waterfall and looked upon his face. Was that a smile on his solemn lips? 'Twould seem so!

He took a step forward, and she did not move back. He lifted his free hand and caressed her chin for a moment before slowly raising her lips to meet his own.

Aye, what a kiss! How could she have ever loved another, she wondered? But those days were gone.

Seconds that lasted an age passed, and yet the two lingered. Finally he pulled back. "Ithilien welcomes her lady," he said, "as do I." 


End file.
